


Under the greenwood tree, who loves to lie with me...

by bettydice (BettyKnight)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Some sadness, some cheese
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyKnight/pseuds/bettydice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tentativley starting a collection for Alistair/Warden drabbles I did on tumblr, hopefully more to come?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under the greenwood tree

 

They decided to have a quick meal in the Korcari Wilds and somehow managed to find a spot not littered with darkspawn or human bodies or animal carcasses. They didn’t manage to find a spot that’s not somehow _wet_ everywhere. Alistair couldn’t wait to find those blasted Warden treaties and return to Ostagar. He kept having this itchy feeling on the back of his mind as though they’d already been gone too long and when they got back, everything would be deserted. Or worse, overrun by darkspawn. Or worse-worse, overrun by darkspawn who ate the roll of cheese he’d left behind.

Mhm cheese, why didn’t he bring it? Alistair frowned at the sad strip of dried meat of unknown origin in his hand and sighed, even his increased Warden appetite couldn’t make this appealing.  Ser Jory and Daveth were shoving the meat and stale bread into their faces as if it was the first thing they’d had to eat for weeks. And maybe it was. Only the new recruit seemed as unimpressed with the food as he was. She was sitting a bit away from them under a tree, staring up at the leaves above her.

Regan. Regan Aeducan. He repeated her name in his mind a few times, sounding out the syllables. He hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk to her yet, apart from their introduction. She seemed to prefer keeping to herself. Well, _that_ had never stopped Alistair before, he’d always been good at chatting to people who weren’t interested. Or else there wouldn’t have been many people left to talk to.

He took his unappealing meat and his waterskin and made his way over to her tree, plopping down next to her as she noticed him.

“Not one for company?”

“Apparently I don’t have a choice.” Her delivery was dry but her lips quirked upwards and signaled him that he wasn’t completely unwelcome. Or at least that’s what he told himself. “I just like to have… something over my head.”

She stared up into the leaves again and he made a soft _ah_ sound. Right, dwarf.

“Ugh, I understand. The sky is so overrated! You never know what might come down. Rain? Snow? Both at the same time? And this is Ferelden, so chances are, some mud will be mixed in as well.”

“I’d be happy about some rain right now, might wash away some of the darkspawn blood.”

“Don’t forget the wolf blood.”

She just groaned and then finally took a bite of her food. And then groaned again.

“You know, I’m quite tall.” He cleared his throat as she looked at him expectantly. “I mean, if we’re outside and there’s no trees and you need… a.. well a _roof_ or something. I have my shield, I could… shield you.”

She kept looking at him, intently, and he felt heat crawl up from his throat into his cheeks. Would he ever learn to just shut his mouth from time to time? Probably not. At least she wouldn’t be able to tell he was blushing under all the dirt and blood. Suddenly Regan smiled, a real smile and oh Maker, she was beautiful.

“Thanks, Alistair. I’ll remember that.”

“You’re… _hm_ , you’re welcome.”

They ate the rest of the meal in companionable silence, the leaves above them shielding them from the raindrops that had begun to fall.


	2. Who loves to lie with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that I'll likely soon run out of lines to use as chapter titles

He wants to say it was love at first sight. His feelings aren’t dainty little things; they’re a force of nature and rush over him in a wave that leaves him breathless. He knows Morrigan thinks him weak. He does feel it at times. Knees bowed and tears in his eyes when he feels the loss. Of Duncan, of purpose, his place in life. Yet when he looks at her, he’s anything but. His love for her is at the heart of his blade and strengthens his guard.  

He now knows that she’s just as lost as he is and yet she stands strong, unyielding against what the world throws at them. She likes to joke about him being too tall, but even the largest ogre can’t stand against the sheer magnitude of her. He once tried to tell her that but the words came out wrong, as usual, and he’s pretty certain she thought he was praising her ample bosom.

He loves her fully, freely and easily. If that renders him foolish or weak to some, well… Morrigan can suck it!


	3. No enemy but winter and rough weather

Winter lays down over Ferelden with a heavy sigh. The change of the seasons brings a lot of firsts - first frost, first snow, first _really_ cold mud after the first snow - and he tries hard to not think of their farewell as “the last”. Last kiss, last smile, last “Your Majesties, the ambassador will be here soon, please compose yourselves”. They write letters but it’s been weeks since he last heard from her and the lump of worry in his chest grows bigger.

She has no one to warm her feet in the morning.

The frost adorning the windows climbs higher every day. As if it won’t stop until the entire castle is encased in a cage of frozen crystals. He stares at them, and in the cold light of morning he thinks he can sometimes catch glimpses of her. His eyes follow fragile lines that paint the pattern of her favourite dress. The shape of her profile, eyes closed - asleep, not dead. He sees the wrinkles that appear around her eyes when she laughs.  
  
He blows air against the window until it slowly melts a hole into the frost and he can see that the pathway to the castle is empty, yet again.

Did she find herself a second blanket for the winter? If she gets hurt, who will make sure she changes her bandages?  
  
He misses her warmth next to him, the reassuring weight of her arm across his stomach, her throaty laughter in his ear. And he’s convinced that they put less cheese on the breakfast table when she’s not here.

He hopes she will be back before the frosted flowers leave the windows and return to the ground.


	4. Offer Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> already ran out of verses, yep yep

“Do you like it?”  
  
Alistair was wringing his hands and looking at her with a worried expression, everything about him screamed _nervous_. Regan examined the pendant in her hand.

“It’s a bronto.”

“I wanted to get you a nug necklace first, but then I thought, wait, that is kind of Leliana’s thing, isn’t it. Also, you’re much more of a bronto than a nug. I mean, of course I also find you adorable, and gorgeous and extremely arousing… I don’t think that about nugs, though… but you’re just… you’re so strong and proud and if you wanted to, you could run head-first through walls, I’m sure!”

Regan didn’t succeed in holding back her laughter and Alistair’s face fell.

“You hate it.”

“No, actually… it’s perfect.” She got up on her toes and pulled him down so that she could give him an intense kiss, showing just _how_ perfect the gift was.

* * *

In the dark, the shadows of the furniture stretched and grew until they formed shapes Regan did not want to see. Lovers embracing. A broken sword. A laughing face.

She gripped the bronto pendant that still hung around her neck, even after all these years and curled up under her blanket.

“Why did you leave me behind?”, she whispered into the night.  
  
He left to the one place she could not follow, her bronto-head useless here. Not even her dreams would lead her to him, because her love was lost in the Fade.

 

And dwarves did not dream.


	5. Tangible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First sentence prompt by codenamecynic: 
> 
> "The wind whistled beneath her feet, nothing but emptiness and a sharp drop inches beyond her toes at the edge of the cliff."

Back in Orzammar she’d never thought much about the layers of the world, too entangled in the political machinations of the Diamond Quarter. Everything above ground had been far away and of marginal interest to her. Now, she was literally standing on top of the world, in the same sky she’d thought of as scary and unstable. There were clouds below her and for the first time she realised they were nothing but mist, as intangible as anything in her life. She felt the strange urge to jump, wondering whether she’d dissolve as well on her way to the ground.

As she took a step back, away from the disquieting ledge of the mountain and her common sense, she bumped into something tall and hard behind her. Gentle hands closed around her shoulders and she looked up to find Alistair smiling down at her. Despite the biting cold of the Frostback Mountains, his body was warm against her,  _ solid _ . And he was very eager to be tangible for her, kneeling down in the snow as she tugged him down by his armour so she could kiss him hard.

Soon she found her fears and doubts melting away like the snowflakes falling on their faces. 


	6. Bringing Home the Bacon

Alistair woke with a gasp. The wolves had overrun their camp, the eerie howling sounding as though it was right in front of their tent. Next to him, Regan was rubbing her eyes, not quite as alert as the situation required. He’d have to hold them back until she was fully awake. Determined, he rushed out of the tent only clad in his breeches. Not even stopping to pick up his weapon, which in hindsight was a bad idea.

Loud growling greeted him as he stepped outside, a demonic creature with glowing red eyes sniffed around his pack. His pack that still held the bacon hock he’d received from a grateful travelling merchant they’d saved yesterday!

“Get away from my bacon!”

The beast turned its furious gaze on him and Alistair took a step backwards, tripped over a tent stake and fell on his butt. He desperately looked around, was everyone else still _sleeping?_ He could make out Regan’s mabari in the distance _looking straight at him_ and doing nothing!

“Why are you not helping? I’ll never share any food with you again, _ever!_ ”

And soon he might have no food left to share, because the abomination of a wolf had stuck its snout into his pack and soon his bacon would be _gone._ What had he done to deserve such cruel fate? Had the Maker abandoned him?

Suddenly, the tent flapped open and Regan stepped out. She looked larger than life bathed in the pale moonlight, her blade shimmering and ready to kill. As she turned towards the beast, it crouched and growled at her. She stepped between the wolf and the bacon and pointed her sword at the gnarling demon.

“If you want it, _come and claim it!_ ”

There was no wind, yet Alistair could swear her hair was flowing in waves. Technically it was too short for that, but that’s how awesome Regan was in that moment.

The demon was no match for her and cowered below her.

“ _Aww_ , why are you scaring the puppy?”

Leliana appeared out of nowhere and squatted down in front of the… dog?

“Helloooo, are the big warriors afraid of you? You’re just hungry, aren’t you? Smelled Alistair’s bacon, non?”

“It looked quite scary in the dark…”, Alistair mumbled to himself and then looked up into Regan’s grinning face. “You thought so, too!”

She just shrugged and went back into their tent. Alistair sighed, got back on his feet, shot the dog a dirty look as he grabbed his pack with the bacon and returned to the tent as well, accompanied by Leliana’s laughter.

Regan was already half asleep as he laid down next to her and snuggled against her, his arm coming round her waist.

“Thank you for protecting my bacon, love.”

She huffed out a laugh and her fingers stroked over the back of his hand. “Do you know when I last had bacon? I wasn’t gonna let a sodding mutt take that away from me.”

“What, you actually thought I’d share it with you? My precious bacon?”

The stroking turned into a painful pinching.

“Ow, I surrender. You can have a third of it.”

More pinching.

“Fine, half.”

“So sweet of you, darling.”

“That’s how much I love you.”

“Almost as much as bacon?”

“Just as much as bacon.”


	7. Turn me on (slighty nsfw)

He’d never thought much about his height. Certainly not during his templar training, where the bulky armour turned everyone around him into intimidating, indistinguishable giants. And Duncan had always been… taller to him. Taller than anyone.

Things were different now. He was very much aware of how much he was looking down nowadays and always ready to bow is back or bend his knees, if the situation required it. He also spent a lot more time sitting these days. But what was a bit of discomfort or a strained neck compared to being able to look into Regan’s face, to kiss her, to hear her voice in his ear?

He smirked to himself and then leaned to his side until his shoulder bumped against hers. He was sitting on the ground once again, while she sat cross-legged on a tree stump, bringing their heads almost up to the same height. The grass underneath him turned the bottom of his trousers somewhat _moist,_ yet he felt incredibly cozy. The campfire was crackling in front of them, their companions spread out around it; except for Morrigan and Sten who always preferred to keep their distance. Regan rested her arm on his shoulder and her hand was slowly stroking the back of his neck and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine.

“I can’t wait to get back to the tent. There’s so many things I want to do to you.”

She’d said it in a low voice, unlikely for anyone else to hear it over the sounds of the fire, yet his head still snapped up and he looked around, making sure nobody was listening to them. Wynne had already retired to her tent, Leliana was dreamily staring into the sky, Oghren was lying on his back, snoring loudly. Really, his only concern was Zevran who always seemed to _just know_ whenever Alistair was thinking about _certain things_ while looking at Regan. He really hated that knowing smirk of his. Though tonight, Zevran was busy tending to his daggers and didn’t notice how Regan’s lips closed around his earlobe for a second. He almost yelped.

“What would you like me to do first?” Her fingers gently stroked up the side of his neck and he bit his lip to suppress a moan. “I could take your cock down my throat.”

Alistair choked, heat rising up his neck into his cheeks and pooling low in his belly. His cough attack certainly drew Zevran’s attention and yep, there was the smirk.

“I shall retire to my tent. Have a lovely evening, my dear Wardens.” What an ass.

He was still coughing and next to him Regan was failing badly at suppressing her laughter, while she enthusiastically patted his back.  Fine, keeping a poker face while his lover was whispering filthy things into his ear might not be his strongest suit. That didn’t stop her though.

“Or maybe I want your mouth between my legs, feel your tongue ins-”

“Alright, that’s it.”

He jumped to his feet, grabbed her hand and practically dragged her to their tent. She followed him, still giggling but he silenced her with a scorching kiss as soon as they were inside.

He sat down and pulled her into his lap, her hands eagerly slipping under his shirt, smoothing up his stomach and over his chest. Her fingers were cool against his skin but he’d make sure to warm her up as fast as he could.

“So, what do you want?” She pulled back a bit and grinned at him, her eyes dark with lust. “My mouth on your cock or me, sitting on your face.”

He gulped, his fingers gripping her hips as he tried to contain his excitement. “Uh, both… both is good.”

“Mhmm, I’m too short for both at the same time.” Her fingers wandered down his torso again until they were skimming the waistline of his pants. “One after the other then.”

He barely had time to take off his shirt before she pushed him down on his sleeping roll, kissing down his chest while she unlaced his trousers. Soon, one of her hands sneaked into his smalls and closed around his half-hard cock. Alistair couldn’t suppress a moan and she grinned up at him.

“You know I love you, right?”

“And I haven’t even begun yet.” She twisted her hand a little and he inhaled sharply.

“Yeah, I… ah, just thought I should… hng, tell you.”

“Stop talking, sweetheart.”

“As you wish.”


	8. Return to Orzammar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First sentence prompt by nelsynoo
> 
>  
> 
> "She flinched when she heard the loud smash, holding back a curse before muttering a quiet, 'whoops'."

 

Alistair wasn’t asleep though. He was sitting on the bed they shared here, obviously waiting for her. He wasn’t saying anything, just placed his hand next to him on the bed for her to join him.

“At least I didn’t wake you.” Regan sat next to him, pointedly not looking at his face. It had been a long day. A day full of controlling her expression and holding back feelings. She’d been avoiding him because warm eyes and a gentle voice would’ve made her crumble.

“Today, you were a queen.” 

Not… what she’d expected to hear. His hand comes to rest on top of hers, covering it entirely. 

“Careful what you say around here… to some it might sound like treason.” She didn’t succeed in keeping the bitterness out of her voice. No strength left to keep up pretenses… it had been… a long day.

“My queen.” 

He bent down and kissed the top of her head, his strong arms wrapping around her and cradling her against him. His warmth enveloped her and in the safety of his embrace, Regan let her tears fall freely.


End file.
